The Sunnydale Syndrome
by DeBrabant
Summary: DARKFIC. Someone discusses the thing they call "The Sunnydale Syndrome" and reveals that they are a much different person than you'd think. Kinda disturbing...


The Sunnydale Syndrome
    
    By Danii
    
    Summary:A discussion about 'the Sunnydale syndrome".
    
     
    
    WARNING:DARK FIC.At least, darker than I've ever
    
    done.Kinda sick, if I may say so.Thought this one
    
    up one night after a particularly bad night at work. 
    
    Don't think I'm sick or crazy, please…
    
    Rating: R…for violence, description, and language.
    
    Disclaimer:I own no one.Don't sue.It would be
    
    useless anyway…I work at CVS.Think "minimum wage"...
    
    Distribution:You want this?Tell me the URL, and
    
    it's yours!I personally want to deny writing the
    
    damned thing...
    
     
    
    And now:
    
     
    
    Sunnydale-itis.SSD.The Sunnydale Syndrome.Being
    
    fucking blind.
    
     
    
    All different names for the same thing, a 'disease'
    
    which runs rampant in our town.
    
     
    
    I guess, if you broadened the definition, you could
    
    say that everyone has a bit of it.Everyone, at one
    
    time or another, has turned a blind eye to a part of
    
    their world, denied its existence, so that they could
    
    stay sane.But here, in this little town, it's almost
    
    a plague.
    
     
    
    They can't see…Well, they can see, but they can't
    
    see everything.They only see what they think is
    
    easiest to deal with. Buffy, the Slayer of all things
    
    scaly and slimy, is the worst of them.So wrapped up
    
    in the supernatural evils that she can't see the
    
    completely human ones right in front of her face.I
    
    mean, it's almost pathetic.
    
     
    
    I remember this one time behind the Bronze when she
    
    was especially stupid.She'd just staked two vampires
    
    who had been leading a young woman out of the club to
    
    feed on her, and like a complete idiot, Buffy walked
    
    off when they were dusted, leaving the girl alone. 
    
    The blonde bimbo didn't even see the trio of perfectly
    
    human hoodlums who were hiding behind the garbage
    
    container.The ones who grabbed the girl minutes
    
    later and beat her to death after raping her
    
    repeatedly.
    
     
    
    But I saw.I watched, and listened, as they tore into
    
    her mind and body.And perhaps a small tear slid down
    
    my face…or maybe not.I don't remember much about
    
    what happened to me at the time.All I remember was
    
    the screaming for help…the screaming no one else could
    
    hear because of the loud music in the club.And the
    
    moment of her death, which, like the others, has been
    
    frozen into my mind till the day I die.
    
     
    
    There are other examples.Other screw ups by the
    
    Scoobie gang members that I've noticed.A mugging
    
    missed by a Slayer that was too busy patrolling.A
    
    murder overlooked by the witches during a scrying
    
    session in order to find a monster quicker.The
    
    people killed by ordinary human beings.
    
     
    
    All of it evil.Just as, or perhaps more, evil than
    
    the horrors done by the scaly and slimy bunch.Then
    
    again, that bunch is just obeying they're nature, so
    
    which is really worse?A demon killing three people
    
    to eat?Or a human killing another human because they
    
    wanted some little green slips of paper that in the
    
    end mean nothing at all?I mean, seeing this sort of
    
    stuff, knowing it, thinking about it…it makes you
    
    wonder why there are demons at all.Hell, as a race,
    
    we do worse things to ourselves than anything those
    
    bastards in the big fiery pit could ever think of.
    
     
    
    But back to my point.Blindness.Blindness of mind,
    
    of soul.The thing which allows Buffy and Willow and
    
    Tara and Anya and Riley and Giles to sleep at night.
    
     
    
    I don't sleep at night.
    
     
    
    Because I see both.I see both, I do both.I am
    
    both.I deal in both worlds, and I will admit that
    
    I'm not exactly sane because of it.You really can't
    
    be a part of both without losing something.You
    
    either have to be a normal person who deals with
    
    normal human problems, like rape and murder and purple
    
    dinosaurs that sing…or you're a supernatural person
    
    who deals with demons and slime and vampires. 
    
    Otherwise, you end up broken.
    
     
    
    That's what happened to Faith, you see.She didn't go
    
    insane and turn evil because she thought she was an
    
    outcast.She didn't try to kill me, and succeed in
    
    killing others, because of anything that the Scoobies,
    
    or Wesley, did.It was because she knew about both
    
    worlds, and she couldn't block one out.
    
     
    
    Bet you didn't know that her parents were a couple of
    
    abusive drunks, eh?Bet you didn't know that when she
    
    was 13, she was raped and left to die on the streets
    
    of Boston.And that the only person who helped her,
    
    her watcher, was brutally tortured to death in front
    
    of her by a human.A human payed by a demon.Shit,
    
    I'm not going to bet you, because I know I'll win. 
    
    And it's no fun if you already know.
    
     
    
    She told me all that.She told me that a few days
    
    after we slept together.Yes, little miss Faith
    
    learned early on that not every evil has a pair of
    
    fangs.It made me feel a strange kinship with her. 
    
    And I, being myself, listened attentively, holding her
    
    in the right moments, hugging her close.Being a good
    
    friend…being understanding.Lord knows I have the
    
    experience necessary.Yet, after she switched sides,
    
    I could only think one thing.
    
     
    
    Stupid.
    
     
    
    She could have been okay.She could have stayed with
    
    us.She could have done what I did…deal with it
    
    creatively.But, unlike myself, who has a lot of
    
    practice at this point, she was sloppy.
    
     
    
    I mean, she killed in front of a witness.And her
    
    blasé attitude?Didn't help her at all.I mean, when
    
    you see a dead person, you have to pretend that it's a
    
    novelty.A horrible, horrible novelty.Something you
    
    never want to see again.
    
     
    
    And when you kill, you can't do it with such an easily
    
    identifiable weapon.I mean, please?A stake?Her
    
    body disposal sucked as well.You're supposed to take
    
    the body with you and get rid of it.You don't leave
    
    it lying around a dumpster for any dumb cop to find. 
    
    I mean, I know Sunnydale cops are inept, but they
    
    aren't that bad.You have to at least dump it into a
    
    body of water…or chop it up and burn it.Or a million
    
    better ways to get rid of evidence.
    
     
    
    Trust me, I know.I've tried most of them, and come
    
    up with a few that would surprise people.Burning,
    
    trashing, strategic placement of the body in demon
    
    hunting ground.But mostly I just bury the body in
    
    one of the hundred or so empty graves in Sunnydale.I
    
    mean, nobody ever looks there.And I don't want
    
    anyone finding my toys.
    
     
    
    My most recent one is squirming at the moment, her
    
    green eyes wide and frightened as she watches me
    
    calmly write this down in a little notebook.But
    
    while I enjoy the fear in the eyes, I feel my own gaze
    
    fall down to sweep across her body, which is barely
    
    concealed by a small tight black dress.Just the kind
    
    I like.Easy to rip, and so much fun to use in the
    
    game.
    
     
    
    She's a pretty one, with long brown hair that falls in
    
    waves over her face.But that beauty is starting to
    
    fade with her terror.I don't mind.That's okay.I
    
    don't look at their faces anyway.I'm usually
    
    concerned with…lower parts.The heart, the
    
    kidneys…such fun they are.All the different organs
    
    within a person are interesting.So many colors and
    
    shapes, even though the red is the one I see the most.
    
     
    
     
    
    I look forward to seeing if hers are more interesting
    
    than the last toy I played with, who is now hidden in
    
    the grave of Ms. Laura Higland, who I believe got
    
    staked a couple of weeks ago.Or was that months ago?
    
     I can never remember…There are a lot of things I
    
    don't remember…and too many things I do.But I don't
    
    need to remember where my old toy is.I don't like
    
    old toys. I like new toys.New, living, breathing,
    
    moving, screaming toys.Toys that play back.
    
     
    
    But I do remember one thing.
    
     
    
    How to cut out each bit without killing the toy.
    
     
    
    And I begin.
    
     
    
    But just as I am about to pull my newest plaything
    
    from the girl's chest, I hear the phone ring.Sighing
    
    tiredly at my interrupted play, I pick it up, vowing
    
    to clean the blood off before it hardens into an icky
    
    mess on my phone.
    
     
    
    "Yes?"
    
     
    
    "Oh," comes the voice from the other end.Giddy,
    
    joyful.Bright and cheery.God, is she one dumb,
    
    blind little bitch, "I was just wondering if you
    
    wanted to go on patrol tonight…you seemed pretty
    
    anxious about it the other night…"
    
     
    
    That was because the other night, I had nothing to do,
    
    and I thought a little pain might be fun.Nothing
    
    like blinding aches all over your body to get you
    
    pumped.But right now, you're interrupting my game…
    
     
    
    "No, Buffs…think I'll stay in tonight…I'm feeling a
    
    little tired." Yeah, tired of playing the idiot. 
    
    Tired of dealing with a moron like you.
    
     
    
    "All right then," she answers, trying to sound
    
    disappointed even though I'm sure she's happy I'm not
    
    going.Now, she'll be able to neck with that piece of
    
    cardboard she calls a boyfriend.
    
     
    
    "All right then." I repeat with a sigh, "See ya later,
    
    Buffster…"
    
     
    
    "See ya at the Magic Box, Xander…"
    
     
    
    The End.
    
     
    
    Send all feedback to [HuffPuff1228@yahoo.com][1]
    
    I wasn't in the best mood when I wrote this.Can you
    
    tell?This is probably the nastiest thing I've ever
    
    written...

   [1]: http://us.f39.mail.yahoo.com/ym/Compose?To=HuffPuff1228@yahoo.com&YY=2676&order=down&sort=date&pos=0



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